


Ways Home

by kalirush



Category: Wayfarers Series - Becky Chambers
Genre: Anxiety, Community - Freeform, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, change, outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21842707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: Some perspective on Kip and Eyas following the events of the book.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	1. Reilly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kass/gifts).



As Reilly stepped aboard the Exodus Fleet for the first time, xyr first impression was that it _smelled._ All ships smelled, in xyr limited experience. But this one, bigger and older than any ship Reilly’d been on before, _smelled_. It was a rich, musky pong of fermentation and air recycling and humidification, with a thick overlay of _people_ , sweat and perfume and bad breath and hair oil. 

Reilly shuffled xyr feet and clutched the strap of xyr bag nervously. It wasn’t that it smelled bad. It was that it smelled like nothing xe’d smelled before, like the yawning unknown stretching out in front of xem. The chasm, into which xe’d dropped xemself.

Xe scanned the area, unsure where to go, when xyr eyes lit on a hand-painted sign reading _Immigration_. It led into a tiny room- small enough to be a closet- containing two chairs, a tiny table, several stacks of flyers, and a middle-aged woman reading a book. The woman looked up, startled. “Hello,” she said and looked around as if taking stock of the room for the first time. “You’re looking for immigration? Right. Have a seat.”

Reilly sat, perching on the edge of the chair. Xe breathed deeply. “My name is Reilly Abbot, and I just came in on the _Elba._ Is this where I’m supposed to go? It doesn’t seem very official.” Xe cringed. _Wrong thing to say,_ xe thought angrily at xemself. _Be more thoughtful!_

But the woman smiled. “That’s true,” she said. “We haven't been running this office long, actually. But I can help you get settled. You’ll need to get a work assignment and a housing assignment and so on.” She flipped through some of the flyers before landing on a blue flyer folded in thirds and handing it over. 

It read “What you need to do when you join the Exodus Fleet!” It was a very friendly looking font, Reilly thought. There was an intimidating list of bullet points underneath the title, though. “Uh, so-” xe read down the list a moment. “Um. So, I need to go to these different offices to do all these things?”

The woman smiled calmly. “Right,” she said. “I’m Eyas, by the way. I’m a caretaker, which probably doesn’t mean much to you right now! We also have classes, by the way, about what it’s like to live here in the fleet, what to expect. They’re not mandatory, but new immigrants often don’t have a good idea of what the Fleet is like, and there’s a lot here that doesn’t exist anywhere else. Anyway, I’ll make sure that you know where to go to get your basics met, and I’ll get you information about our classes and then at least you’ll know a few people and have some idea what to do.”

“Oh,” Reilly said. Xe could feel panic starting to build, buzzing under xyr skin. “I don’t want to be any trouble. I’m sure I can find my way on my own.”

Eyas shrugged. “I won’t stop you if that’s what you want, but it’s no trouble. I’m glad to have someone come along- otherwise, I was just going to sit in this room the whole shift. Here, I’ll walk you over to the housing office, and we can chat on the way.” 

Somehow, Reilly found xemself trailing along the corridor slightly behind Eyas, xyr heart beating harder with every step. Xyr mind ran in familiar, ugly spirals. Xe was being a bother. Xe was making trouble. Xe shouldn’t assume that anyone would help xem. Xe should know xyr place. Xe had _better_ know xyr place, or- 

Then there was the other spiral, the one that ran clockwise to the first one- xe was being crazy, everything was okay, Eyas was just trying to help, this was all xyr mother talking, xe needed to calm down, if xe didn’t calm down, Eyas would know there was something wrong-

And then Eyas stopped, and turned back to xem, and xyr chest tightened so much that no air could have squeezed through if Reilly had tried, and xyr heartbeat was a hummingbird drone in xyr throat, and xyr skin went cold and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eyas smiled. “Why don’t we sit down a minute?” she said, and she _must_ have known, she couldn’t have failed to notice that Reilly was acting like a crazy person, but she just sat down and waited while Reilly sat down too.

“So, why the Fleet?” Eyas asked, still smiling calmly. “If I can ask a nosy question. I’m always curious what brings people here.”

Reilly pressed xyr hands against each other and tried to breathe through the spirals and the pounding in xyr chest. “I heard-” xe said. “I heard that everyone has a place to live here. I’m- I don’t know how to do anything, but I can clean at least. I don’t want to be useless. There have to be people to clean toilets, right?” _I’m babbling,_ xe thought _, she’s going to think I’m crazy, I am crazy-_

“Cleaning toilets isn’t useless,” Eyas said. “We’d all be sorry if no one did it. Anyway, we have job training here, and apprenticeships. If you don’t have any needed skills, someone can teach you.” She looked at Reilly, assessing, and Reilly felt as if her eyes went straight into xem. “That’s the idea, though. ‘If we have food, you will eat. If we have air, you will breathe.’ And so on. That’s our law, for every member of the Fleet.”

Reilly swallowed. “How do you become a member of the Fleet?” Xe looked up at Eyas, ashamed that there were tears in xyr eyes.

Eyas shrugged. “I’m sure we’re going to have to answer that question properly someday,” she said. “A Harmagian will show up asking to live here or something. But for now-” she held out a hand. Reilly looked up at Eyas, confused, and then took her hand hesitantly. 

“Reilly Abbot,” Eyas said, seriously. “Welcome to the Fleet. Live with us, work with us, and you will be now, and always, a member of our Fleet. Welcome to the decks of the _Asteria_ , and to the journey we take together.” She paused, half-smiled. “That’s what the archivists say when a baby is born.” She pulled Reilly up to standing. “Come on,” she said, smiling. “Let’s get you a housing assignment.”

Reilly breathed, and followed, hoping.


	2. Nicky

“I don’t want to go,” Nicky said.

“Sweety,” Mom said. “You have to go. Minimally, Dad and I have to go to work.”

“I could stay in the hex,” Nicky said. “Gunther’s always around, and he wouldn’t mind if I hung out with him.”

Mom sighed. “First of all, Gunther is not always around. Second of all, Gunther has better things to do than hang out with a ten-year-old, no matter how delightful and beloved a human being he may be, and third of all, you still have to go to school.”

Nicky looked at his shoes. He hadn’t really thought she’d let him stay home. “I hate it there.”

His mom hugged him. “I know,” she said. “It’ll get better. Just give it time, okay? I know you miss things back on the _Newet_ , but you’ll settle in here.”

Nicky didn’t answer. That’s what his mom always said, but it hadn’t come true yet. He grabbed his bag and followed her out of the door. They waved at Gunther on the way out of the hex, who _was_ always around, and at Nur’s family across the way, and at the new planetsider who’d moved in a couple days ago. At least the people in their new hex were friendly, unlike pretty much everyone at Nicky’s school.

The morning was as bad as he’d thought it might be. They’d been given a writing assignment: “Why I’m Proud to Live on the _Asteria_ ”, and he’d raised his hand and asked what if he wasn’t proud to live on the _Asteria_ , and half the kids had snickered and M Williams had sent him for punishment on the grounds of being a smart aleck.

At least he was out of class for a while.

He didn’t go back to M Williams’ class until after lunch (where he’d spent the exercise period sitting on the edges of the garden tracing the lines on leaves all by himself). They were apparently having a visit from an archivist. The archivist was a young guy, which surprised Nicky. The one he had met on the _Newet_ had been an old man. But he was wearing the yellow robes, so he had to be a real archivist.

“This is M Tran,” M Williams said to the class. “He’s here to talk to us about the history of the Fleet, and of the _Asteria_ particularly.”

“You all can call me Kip,” the archivist said, smiling at them. Then he started telling them stories- some of them about old Earth, but mostly about the founding of the Fleet. Kip was a good storyteller, and Nicky usually liked hearing about Earth and the beginnings of the Fleet. But then he started talking about the _Asteria_.

For everyone else in the room, this was _their_ history, _their_ ancestors. Nicky’s family had had that aboard the _Newet_ , but then they’d installed an AI to manage the inventory system in Stores and Nicky’s mom had needed retraining, and they’d moved here, to a new hex and a new last name and a new school. And of course, the only thing anyone remembered about the _Newet_ was the patch plague, even if that had been _years_ ago now, and stupid Mar had told everyone that they shouldn’t get too close to him or they might catch it, and now no one would talk to him. 

So when Kip stopped his story and asked them if they had any questions, Nicky raised his hand and asked a question that he absolutely, positively _knew_ would get him in trouble with M Williams.

“Why do we have to learn any of this anyway, when we’re all just going to take the exams when we get of age and leave to get jobs that earn creds?”

The whole class stared at him, and M Williams’ face scrunched up like she was about to start shouting. But the archivist just smiled and nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s a good question,” Kip said. “That’s definitely the question I had when I was- I don’t know, maybe not your age, but a few years older for sure.” 

M Williams stared at the archivist. “I’m sorry, he-” she started, but Kip waved her down.

“I did it, too,” he said. “I took the exams, and I left. A lot of my classmates did the same, and a lot of them never came back. So, that’s something you’re all going to be thinking about, that you’re all going to have to consider as you grow up. But no matter what, no matter where you go, all of you will always be _from_ here. You will always have grown up in the Fleet, and you will always be Exodan. So, these are your stories, and you should have the chance to know them. History is a part of us, it’s the way that we learn who we are- who we are as individual people, but also who we are together. Humans need that.” 

The archivist came up to him after class was over, as everyone was filing out and no one was looking in Nicky’s direction. “The Fleet feels really small sometimes, huh?” he asked, tapping Nicky on the shoulder.

Nicky squirmed. “I didn’t even mean what I said,” he confessed, awkwardly. “I’m sorry for being rude in your presentation.”

Kip smiled at him. “I didn’t mind,” he said. “That’s one of the questions that you and your classmates are going to have to deal with- should you stay? If you’re going to stay, why?”

“I’ve never even thought about leaving before,” Nicky admitted. “I mean, I know people do that. I’m just- I’m not from the _Asteria_ , we just moved from the _Newet_ , and everyone has a place here, and I- and my mom keeps telling me to give it time, but-”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, sympathetically. “Moms say that kind of thing, and it never helps.”

“What does help?” Nicky asked. He jammed his hands in his pockets, feeling the fabric against his fingertips.

Kip cocked his head, thinking. “The place I went to school was called Kaathet,” he said. “And before I got there, I _really_ wanted to go. But when I got there- it was an Aandrisk port, so there weren’t even many humans, and everything was strange. It was exciting but it was awful, too. I think the only thing that helped was just- I don’t know- letting the awfulness be okay for a while. I would go out and explore and look at things and just try to focus on the excitement instead of the loneliness. And eventually, I got my bearings.”

Nicky snorted. “That’s basically the same as saying ‘give it time’,” he pointed out. But it made him feel a little better, even so.

Kip smiled. “Well, moms are right pretty often too, I’m sorry to tell you,” he said. 

Nicky glanced back at M Williams, getting ready to close up the classroom. “I liked your stories, anyway,” he said.

Kip nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “And if you ever want, I could tell you some things about the _Newet_ , too."

Nicky smiled. It felt like his first real smile for ages. “Yeah,” he said. “That sounds cool.”


	3. Piers

Piers straightened his shirt, checking himself over. “Kids!” he called. “We have to be ready to go in five!”

There was no answer, and he heard no signs of movement. He sighed heavily. Lucy was on her bed, reading on her scrib. Krish was in the middle of a sim, and Nur was hooked into the sim watching Krish play, and not one of them had moved an inch since he’d told them to start getting ready fifteen minutes ago. “Shoes!” he bellowed. “Clothes! For the fifth time, _move!_ ”

With Piers actually in view, they finally responded. Around then, Aman wandered out from wherever he’d been. “You know, you could have been the one to yell at them about their shoes,” Piers complained. 

“I was in the bathroom,” Aman said. “And you’re not upset about shoes; you’re upset about M Savio.” He put his arm around Piers’ waist. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it on time.”

They did, too, surprisingly enough. When they walked into the room, Claire and Ash were there with Reilly, standing in a miserable-looking cluster. Ann and Marco were late, predictably, as was Seb. Aman and Piers took their kids over, though, and by the time they were done with all the hellos and the hugs, everyone else had arrived. 

Piers spotted the caretaker at the far end of the room, standing in her undyed clothing next to a tall, yellow-robed male archivist. He patted Aman on the shoulder and then walked over. “Hello, M,” he said to her. He nodded to the archivist also, who smiled and stepped away to let them talk. “I’m Piers Scanlan. We- well, my husband and I- we-”

“You were the ones who found M Savio?” She finished for him. 

Piers nodded. “We talked about it, and we decided- the whole hex will stand in as his family together. It only seems right.” Gunther had no family- parents and sibs long dead, no partner, no children- but a hex was as good as a family sometimes, in Piers’ experience. Better, for some. 

The caretaker smiled at him. “It’s good of you,” she said. 

Piers nodded, and he was mortified to find tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s the least-” he started, and then he choked, horrifyingly close to going to pieces in front of the hex and the caretaker and the archivist. He had been the one to find Gunther’s body. It had been their night to cook. Gunther didn’t always come to the dinners so Aman thought he’d probably just gone out, but Piers hadn’t heard from him that day... it turned out he’d been right to worry. They said it was peaceful, natural causes. Piers put his hands over his face, pressing the heels of his palms hard into his eyes.

“Tears are welcome at a laying-in,” the caretaker said, gently. “I’m Eyas, by the way.” 

Piers huffed out a breath, let his hands fall to his side. “Still,” he said, after a moment. “Have to keep it together for the children.” It was a blatant lie. The children- as far as he could see them- were doing fine. Nur had grabbed onto Nicky as soon as his family had arrived, and Lucy and Krish were with Aman.

Eyas smiled perhaps too sympathetically, but she let him have his dignity. “Shall we begin?” she asked. “Are you expecting anyone else?”

“No one else,” Piers said, nodding. “Let’s start.”

The kids had only been to a laying-in once before, probably before Krish and Nur were old enough to remember. They’d never been to one where they were acting as a family member. They were wide-eyed and solemn as they took their turns wrapping strips of cloth around Gunther’s body. Piers saw Nur’s hand shaking, and almost reached out to help- but Aman, always more sensitive to the kids’ moods, was there first, guiding Nur’s hand gently in the task. 

The hex had decided unanimously that Piers ought to be the one to read the Litany and he’d reluctantly agreed. He hated speaking in front of other people. Still, he got through it. “Here you will stay,” he read. “Until we rejoin the stars once more.”

The archivist got up and recorded the death: “Gunther Savio, age eighty-eight. His name will be remembered. So long as the Archives remain, so shall he.”

And then Claire and Marco carried the stretcher up the ramp behind the caretaker, and all of them trailed behind, the archivist solemn at the end. The children took the shovels first, turned the soil a few times, and passed their shovels on to the bigger, stronger adults. It took almost no time, with so many people helping. 

Then they lowered Gunther’s body into the hole, and mounded the mulch and dirt over him. 

And then it was over. Piers found himself shaking, tears running down his face. With nothing left to organize, he was lost.

Aman put an arm around him, and everything quieted down. Piers gulped, trying to swallow the tears and the grief and the sorrow that he’d never see his neighbor- his friend- again. “I’ll be okay,” he said to Aman. “Go ahead and get the kids home. They’ll be wanting to start the wake. I’ll just-” he looked over at the mound, the little flag the caretaker had placed to mark the spot. “I just need a minute,” he finished. Aman knew Piers. He took the kids, and the rest of the hex went with them.

Piers stood there on the pathway for a long few minutes, until he could breathe evenly again, until he didn’t want to vomit at the idea of going home and eating Seb’s coaster stew and drinking Ash’s homemade kick and listening to everyone talk about the man who wasn’t coming to dinner. He wiped his eyes, straightened his shirt, and walked down the path. 

As he left the Centre, he passed the archivist and the caretaker. They nodded to him solemnly.

“You do get used to it,” he heard the caretaker say softly to the archivist behind him. “Maybe there are other parts of your job you like more, though.”

“No,” the archivist answered her, almost shyly. “I like being the one to witness it, all of them together with the one who’s gone.” He paused. “So long as I’m not the one who has to read the Litany.”

Piers headed for the transport deck, and home.


End file.
